


My Beloved Moon

by SilvaTalbot



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Confessions, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Headcanon, Love Confessions, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25963480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilvaTalbot/pseuds/SilvaTalbot
Summary: After night is restored to the First once and for all, Y’shtola returns to Slitherbough to wind down. Runar greets his dear friend upon her arrival, though something heavier weighs on his mind.He is hopelessly in love with her, yet cannot muster up the strength to speak his mind.
Relationships: Y'shtola Rhul/Runar
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23
Collections: August Novel Pairing Challenge 2020





	My Beloved Moon

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to [Redshiftnova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redshiftnova/) for helping me check that the Quechua phrases I used were grammatically sound, and giving me resources for future use! This fic wouldn’t be nearly the same without their help.

“ _Allin tuta_ , Master Matoya!” called out a black-haired Ronso with white, tiger-striped fur, eagerly waving at the return of his snowy-haired Miqo’te teacher, his voice filled with mirth. “I am so glad you have returned!” 

“ _Allin tuta_ , Runar. I am relieved to be home once more, and you are a sight for sore eyes,” she returned in kind.

Runar had been anticipating his mentor and dear friend’s return—Matoya in the light, with her true name Y’shtola unspoken until dark as was tradition of the Night’s Blessed—counting down the nights, unable to properly rest until he had received word that she would be returning by next nightfall. She had left the Rak’tika Greatwoods shortly after the Lightwarden’s defeat with the Warrior of Darkness. Such a task was initially believed to be nothing more than a fool’s errand at best, a fate worse than death at worst. Yet by no small miracle, she and the Warrior of Darkness had done the impossible—they had brought back the blessed night sky to Rak’tika. After their task was complete, it wasn’t long until she had left with the hero to continue on their quest to fully rid the world of everlasting light. Though they had all celebrated the newly reborn night together, chatting and making merry with food and drink as the stars twinkled brilliantly above for the first time in a century, the Ronso had something unsaid to the Miqo'te before she headed off on the next step of her quest.

‘ _I love you, Shtola. My beloved moon.’_

Though Runar deeply yearned to finally say those words to her, he couldn’t bring himself to the task.

The pair quickly grew close when she had first arrived in Slitherbough as if they were long lost friends reuniting for the first time in many years. They spent most of their time working together in the village, with him brewing tea for her as she poured over tome after tome, her research almost never-ending. He would go so far as to read the pages aloud to her when she requested—a rarity for the headstrong Miqo'te—citing that she was experiencing eye strain, with the Ronso blissfully unaware of the fact that she was using her aether to fuel her vision. Even then, the feeling of just being near her, sharing private moments with her, he had chalked up to merely enjoying her company.

Upon later self-reflection, he realized he had been a fool to not comprehend what should have been as striking and clear as the stars in the newly returned night sky.

It wasn’t until he had heard the news of Y’shtola disappearing in the Qitana Ravel, Runar felt a deep anguish unlike anything else the Ronso healer had experienced. He knew loss, the most recent being that of Toddia, her burial ceremony having taken place just a few nights before. This pain, however, was beyond mourning. His chest ached unlike any pain or injury he had ever experienced. His grief didn’t just manifest itself physically—the thought of losing Y’shtola, his _ **Master Y’shtola,**_ tormented him. The idea of no longer being able to help the Miqo’te with her studies, of preparing her food and drink and making sure she actually ate, of simply no longer seeing her… 

The howl of grief he let out that night in Fanow was unlike any sound anyone had ever heard.

Yet somehow, the Warrior of Darkness and their compatriots had miraculously brought her back from the sunless sea. The Ronso couldn’t stop himself from scooping up the smaller Miqo’te in his arms, tears welling up in his eyes as he spun her around with him, unable to contain his passionate joy at her return any longer. The agonizing misery of her loss had nearly swallowed him up, and upon seeing her hale and whole, his feelings had been firmly cemented in his heart then and there. She was more than just Master Matoya or Y’shtola to him. He loved her more than anything—in his eyes, she was _khuyanan,_ his only love. 

Yet Runar could not bring himself to tell Y’shtola his feelings, keeping the precious words tucked away in his heart, always making excuses as to why he couldn’t tell her. _‘She’s busy right now,’_ or _‘Her focus should be on more important things.’_ Before he knew it, Y’shtola had left, and the words remained there, his inaction turning into self-deprecating regret.

No longer. Runar had promised himself that tonight, he would finally tell Master Y’shtola how strongly she felt about her. He could only hope she felt the same about him.

“Runar, is aught amiss?” Y’shtola queried, the Ronso not realizing he had been staring off into space for a few moments too long.

Runar was startled back to the present, a sheepish smile crossing his lips, champagne-hued cat eyes fixed on his dearest person. “My apologies, Master Matoya. I am doing well, I assure you,” he stated, before quickly changing the subject. “The Warrior of Darkness was kind enough to inform me that you were returning, so I prepared stew and some herbal tea. If you wish to rest, I can bring them to your chambers.”

Y’shtola gazed upon him with hazy silver eyes, pondering for a long moment, her slender tail flicking behind her. Runar wondered if the perceptive woman had read through him, or if there was something else on her mind. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long for his answer.

“That sounds lovely, Runar. Our dear friend was kind enough to drop me off, so the trek was shorter than anticipated,” she responded with a gentle smile. “Would you care to join me? It has been an age since we last spoke, and the tale of what has transpired may be of interest to you.”

Runar’s ears perked with delight. It had been far too long since the two shared a meal together, and it was the perfect opportunity to reveal his affection for the Miqo’te mage. He quickly lept at the offer, trying his best to hide his excitement. “Of course! I would be delighted to hear of the tale, Master Matoya.” The Ronso’s tone may have been even, but the tip of his tufted tail quivering betrayed him.

“You certainly are _excited_ to see me once more,” Y’shtola quipped with a quirk of her head, giving the tiger-striped Ronso a knowing look. “You are _sure_ nothing is wrong?”

Heaving a sigh, Runar slumped forward in defeat. Was he really that easy to read, or was she just that perceptive? “Nothing gets past you, Master Matoya,” he meekly laughed in response, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. “I can assure you, it is nothing catastrophic, and can wait until later.” 

Appearing to be satisfied with that answer, Y’shtola gently nodded. “If you insist, Runar. I will meet you in my chambers anon.” Turning on her heel, she strolled to her chambers, leaving Runar by himself to mull over his thoughts while he fetched the stew and tea, his stomach starting to twist itself into anxious knots. 

It used to be so easy to speak with her in regards to any subject, but why was expressing his true desires to her such a struggle for the normally composed Ronso?

\---

As night fell over Slitherbough, Runar stepped into Y’shtola’s chambers, pushing the door open with his foot. In his strong arms, he was carrying a sizable basket and a hefty stewpot. “I am sorry about the wait, Master Y’shtola, I had neglected to pack the tea and dishes beforehand,” he sheepishly laughed as he turned to face the Miqo'te.

Y’shtola was sitting at her table, reading one of the numerous tomes littered throughout her spacious room. She glanced up from her book, watching while the Ronso began to set up for their meal—placing the stew pot in the center of the table, a ladle peeking out from just under the specially-made lid. Runar took great care with the placement of the dishes as he plucked them from the basket, setting out two carved wooden bowls and hand-made silverware wrapped in simple cloth napkins into their proper places—one before Y’shtola, and one where Runar was to sit before her.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Magnar,” Y’shtola mused, now using Runar’s true name as he set out a kettle wrapped in heavy cloth, “for what should be a simple meal and tea.”

Runar looked dumbstruck by her words. Was he usually not this meticulous with his settings? Or was his intent to impress her tonight that obvious? Flashing her an awkward smile, he felt his face start to burn at her remark while he procured two stoneware tea cups, placing each one at each setting. “I am just glad to see you again, Master Y’shtola. I wanted to make sure our reunion was special,” he responded, picking up the stewpot as he began to serve his special stew—her first, _always_ her first, before ladling out some for himself. “I know you have been extremely busy dealing with the Lightwardens.”

Runar knew that ridding the world of the Lightwardens was a nigh insurmountable task, but knowing of her hand in the task of defeating the cursed Lightwarden in the Qitana Ravel, he held steadfast to the hope that Y'shtola would one day return, her task with the Warrior of Darkness completed, and blessed night returning to the world. It was just a matter of when. That did not mean, however, he wasn’t worried sick about her, nor did he not harbor regrets of withholding his confession to her. That there were days he neglected to eat, wracked with a lingering fear that she may never return, and his chance to tell her would have been lost forever.

Switching his attention to the kettle, Runar poured Y’shtola some of the warm herbal tea. “I brought honey if you wish to sweeten it, Master Y’shtola.” Runar finally took his seat before her, taking a deep drink of the warm brew. Y’shtola eyed him, a mischievous smile flashing over her face as she interjected midway through his drink.

“Then why do you act like a lovestruck kitten, Magnar?”

Runar nearly choked on his tea at the direct nature of her remark. He shouldn’t have been surprised by this—Y’shtola was known for cutting straight to the heart of the matter when she was tired of pussyfooting around a subject. He quickly scooped up the napkin, coughing roughly into it, doing his best to regain himself. He was hoping to at least get through some of the meal before springing his confession on her, but the Ronso should have known better than to keep such a deep secret for so long.

With a defeated sputter, he set his napkin aside, meekly looking down at his lap with his ears drooping. “I was that easy to read, wasn’t I?”

Y’shtola gave Runar a soft hmm, closing her eyes and smiling. “I knew it from that day back in Fanow. The day you scooped me up in your arms, overjoyed to near tears at my return. It was clear to me then that your feelings toward me were more than platonic,” She sipped at her tea before continuing, her gaze fixed on the Ronso. “I have been waiting for you to tell me. Did our friend by chance scare you to silence when they drunkenly regaled us that first night with the story about the man that I rejected by calling him ‘Little Sun’?”

Another bashful look from Runar confirmed her theory to be correct. The Warrior of Darkness drank a little too much _chicha_ —an alcoholic beverage the Night’s Blessed only brought out in moments of great celebration—and began regaling friends with stories, with Runar being included in the mix, though not quite understanding some of the terms the hero was referring to. One of the stories happened to be about when Y’shtola bluntly rejected Magnai in the Azim Steppe after he boldly professed the possibility of the woman being his Nhaama. The Ronso didn’t understand the word, but he could figure out through the context that the word held similar weight as _khuyanan_ did in the Ronkan tongue _._

When that story was told in great detail, with such a _**profane**_ insult thrown in and the story ending in another woman mocking the fellow, Runar wasn’t amused, though he made sure to hide his real feelings with a chortle. Instead, an initial pang of annoyance struck the Ronso at the audacity of a man that barely knew his Master Y’shtola suddenly professing his love for her just for beating him in battle. He deemed Magnai either an irredeemable fool or hopelessly desperate, and he couldn’t decide which was worse.

Another thought soon replaced his initial annoyance, as Runar had yet to tell Y’shtola his own feelings for her. Sure, this wouldn’t be coming from out of nowhere, he figured, but what if she rejected him in much the same way as she did Magnai? He knew she wouldn’t be so cruel as to insult him for being honest with her, yet he couldn’t help but worry that not only would she reject him, but would outright lose the Miqo’te forever.

That thought hit him like the weight of the Great Serpent’s tail across his belly, thus Runar decided to keep his words to himself that night.

“It seems I shall have to have a chat with our friend about sharing such stories,” Y’shtola noted, her tone scarcely disguising her annoyance. “And make sure that no one gives them anything alcoholic, for that matter.”

Runar finally peered up at Y’shtola, his embarrassment subsiding. “You don’t have to do that, Master Y’shtola, not for my sake.” A weak smile crossed his lips. “I did intend on telling you, after our meal. I should have known better than to wait so long, and I shouldn’t have allowed my courage to slip away so easily.” Letting out a deep sigh, he closed his eyes, mustering up every ounce of courage within him to finally speak the words he had held in his heart for so long—

Only for his focus to be shattered into a million stars as he felt Y’shtola kiss him softly, Runar not even noticing that she had gotten up from her seat. Pressing her forehead against his in an intimate display of affection, Y’shtola murmured softly to the tiger-striped Ronso, feeling the warmth of her body so close to his own. _“Kuya’yki,_ Magnar _._ ” She took one of his hands in hers, gently pressing it to her cheek, “I love you,” she added as she closed her eyes.

A long stunned silence from the Ronso passed between them until Runar finally rediscovered the words he had longed to share with her, nearly losing them in surprise.

_“Kuya’yki_ , Shtola. _Munasqaylla killa._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Terms [QU to EN]:  
> allin tuta - good night  
> kuya’yki - I love you  
> khuyanan - [his/her] love (romantic in this context)  
> munasqaylla killa - my beloved moon
> 
> \---
> 
> I couldn't get this out before patch 5.3, so this is now an AU thing! (If you've done all of 5.3, you will understand the change.)
> 
> As it turns out, the Ronkan language is actually a real-world language called Quechua (Runasimi). I shouldn’t be at all surprised a real-world language was used for the Night’s Blessed, let alone this particular one—they are heavily Incan-inspired, as is the entirety of Rak’tika, and Quechua is the main language family of the Inca Empire. Leave it to the devs to do research and use a fitting language, and for me to only find out when I looked up ‘allin tuta’ to remember the spelling.
> 
> The true name that Y’shtola uses for Runar is currently a headcanon, as there is none currently stated in canon. If one ever is added, I will revise this bit. For now… I chose Magnar as it felt fitting, and nothing to do with the fact that it sounds so close to Magnai, which is 100% unintentional _I swear._ (At least originally.)
> 
> Chicha in the real world is an Inca corn beer, originally used for ceremonial purposes, but in modern times is just really cheap and easy to produce alcohol. It apparently can also get someone really sloshed due to the high altitude even at ~4.5% ABV. 
> 
> I use Source/First terms interchangeably, but Runar is Ronso as he is from the First, and Y’shtola is Miqo’te as she is from the Source.
> 
> Another headcanon, but In my mind, Runar thinks of Y’shtola as Master [Name]. Not _just_ Matoya, Y’shtola or Shtola, _**Master [Name]**_ , even if he didn’t say it in the confession.
> 
> \---
> 
> If you like this work, please leave a comment and/or a kudos! Knowing that people read and enjoy my work keeps me wanting to write more!
> 
> I am part of an FFXIV fanfic Discord for both readers and writers! If you wish to join: [please use this link](https://discord.gg/hWyCz3F) and let them know this fic is what brought you over!


End file.
